Iraq:the hounds of love sequence
by Roo1965
Summary: Jack's four months in hell. As mentioned in 'A matter of time' to Frank Cromwell. angst, hc,language.


Author's notes: This is what happened when I listened to Kate Bush's Hounds of Love (1985) album at work every day for a week -- I went over to the dark side! Don't get me wrong I love this album to pieces. Things just went a little weird. Some of the song titles also made me think of certain SG1 episodes, so I may return to this theme in the future. In case you don't know-the **scene titles** are songs on the album, and _italics_ are lyrics. And if you listen to the album while reading this it will all make sense….hopefully! Younger listeners may know the title from the recent cover version by The Futureheads. Geordie, my OC also appears/mentioned in 3 other related'ish fics **Blackbeard, Lost in Translation **and **The Lazarus Heart **of which the last 2 are still WIP's. Thanks to Tigger and Neet for looking it over.

**Iraq:hounds of love sequence by Roo1965 **

**Running up that hill (a deal with God)**

FRANK

Frank Cromwell turned around at a sound behind him; dammit the black hawk was comin for them NOW for the exfil. Frank was getting cold, despite the adrenaline rush of the last thirty two hours. They had no time to futz with the natives - if they missed this RV they'd have to catch the next one. Jack knew that better than any of them. Hanging around in this godforsaken sandpit any longer than necessary wasn't an option. It would get them all killed. C'mon Jack where are you?

He made a decision. He trekked back down his sand dune and up the next and hunkered down with an exasperated sigh. He hated the NVG's they were heavy and the strap bit into his ear, but you could see in the night time. Way cool, as Jack would say. He looked at his watch – 0203. The exfil was ordered for 0210.

He saw them. The other half of the unit- O'Donnell, Curtis and Jack. Curtis in the lead, his NVG's making him look like some alien, heading steadily towards him and the exfil point and the promise of the black hawk. O'Donnell and Jack hung back. He could see Jack signal to Curtis that he'd heard something, and Curtis squatted down just in case. O'Donnell and Jack disappeared over the ridge. Shit, they didn't have time for this! He could hear the copter now. And if he could….others could too.

Suddenly O'Donnell was scrambling back over the lip of the ridge, turning around and struggling with something. What the..? A dammed dog! There was a silent flash from Curtis. His knife. The dog went limp, Frank couldn't be sure of the details. The copter was almost here. O'Donnell peered over, nodded and crouch ran to Curtis and they began to head towards Frank and the black hawk.

Where was Jack? Two clicks on his radio meant the copter was hovering now. He _had _to go. He turned and headed back up the dune towards the RV pick up, he could hear O'Donnell and Curtis behind him cursing and panting with effort. The top of the next dune he looked back, and saw Jack in hand to hand with a…soldier. Where the heck had he come from? Once again there was a glint in the dark and Jack dealt with him. Curtis and O'Donnell were past Frank now and almost in the copter.

Come on Jack he silently urged. Frank could see that Jack wasn't moving a fast as he should, and he began to head back down the dune towards him, when he heard a shot ring out. Jack jerked like a child's puppet on a string and went down. Oh God, thought Frank in shock. Training kicked in. Jack didn't move. Frank turned to the black hawk and home. And even as they lifted into the night sky, futile shots rang into the air from a lone soldier. Frank slid his weapon out the door and aimed, killing him. That made him feel a bit better. He'd avenged Jack.

Some months later Frank heard on the grapevine that Jack wasn't dead and at the last calculation was still alive but a POW. He pleaded and begged his superiors to head a rescue mission, not just for Jack but for other US Forces detainees. For by now there were some British commandos, and probably civilians too. But no, it was too risky. The axis' focus was elsewhere by that point. Oil wells and the road to Baghdad…

_If I only could I'd be running up that hill, I'd make a deal with God and I'd get him to swap our places…._

JACK

_If I only could I'd be running up that hill._

And then I'd be home, not here with a hole in my side and my brains tryin to leak outta my ears. Frank you bastard! You left me behind! How could you do that to me? Hang on Jack. He'll come back for you….no they won't not just for me…Dammit.

I'd almost made it to the exfil point and home. Damn shepherd and his fucking goats! What the hell was he doing wandering around in the middle of the night? The dog had our scent and was leading the shepherd straight to us. I went for the shepherd. The dog went for O'Donnell and he'd managed to stick his knife in it but not before getting torn good and proper. Dog bites could be nasty.

So could wooden clubs upside the head. I don't need this shit- the copter was coming any moment now. I head butted goat man and when he staggered backwards and brought his hands up, he left his lower body unprotected. A swift hard kick to his thigh shocking the femoral artery knocked him out. Then I despatched him.

I waved O'Donnell back and followed up the dune and into the depression. One dune to go and home…

And that's when the soldier turned up. Our copter must have masked the sound of his truck or however he'd got here. What was he doing with the shepherd guy? Just visiting? Didn't matter. He was here now. I had to stop him from raising the alarm. He ripped the NVG's off my face in the scuffle. Why he didn't just shoot me in the back I'll never know. He was young. Maybe he wanted to take me back home to meet his folks. That was never going to happen now, not with his throat cut, the blood streaming black over his uniform and mine, and soaking into the sand.

Staggering, I carried on towards Frank and the copter. Jeez, my head was going to fall off or explode any moment now. Keep going, Jack.

There's a noise and a pain in my side. I don't understand. I killed him! I killed him, I saw the blood run. My legs fold, my head pulses and I'm down on the sand and blackness rushes in.

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**Hounds of love**

They are hunting me. Frank was a coward. Left me for dead. I tried to bury some of my gear after I came round. But by then more soldiers came and they found me in a ditch as morning light came. They are not happy that two of theirs are dead…plus a dog and a shepherd, or should that be a goatherd?

I get shoved and booted around for a bit before they handcuff me and shove me in an open topped jeep with a bag over my head. Just goin' for a little ride with my buddies here. I wasn't dead, Frank!

We drive for a long time before slowing down at a checkpoint. I hear the words 'American'. The air feels cooler, enclosed, and not so open. The jeep stops. Some sort of compound with buildings I guess. I'm dragged into a room and promptly trip over the doorstep and crash to my knees. Ow, that really hurts! They find this excruciatingly funny. They unload everything that's left in my pockets (which isn't much- I've seen to that) and pull off the outer camo jacket.

They remove the bag and I peer round my new surroundings. They needed Martha Stewart's help badly. Pale green walls were so 80's. They strip me, and at least the handcuff comes off for a while. There are too many guns pointing at me so no chances of escape.They search all the seams in the clothing. I blank out the looks and comments they make in fractured English. They're just trying to get a rise out of you….maybe that was the wrong word to think, Jack. Let's hope so. So not going _there._ I don't think I could cope with that- a rape of the mind and body, sheesh.

They return my clothing and let me keep the socks and boots, but no laces. I am sure they're just buttering me up, getting me to think that they aren't really too bad. I know that what they can give they can also take away.

I refuse to answer anything but my name and rank. More slaps round the head and digging into my side wound or busting a rib won't make me. Can't they see that?

After a week or two, they wheel in one of their big guns and the real fun starts. They even make sure my injuries aren't too severe, so that I'm ready for him. I'm dancing round the frayed edges of concussion and infection anyway.

This smooth talking officer is just biding his time. A feint here and dodge there. He'll say one thing and do another.

I can attach you to machines. Take your shoes off he says.

See I told you they'd take stuff away. I was amazed I'd managed to keep them this long. It gets really cold at night and having warm feet helps a lot.

_And I'll be two steps on the water_…

I won't tell him anything. Nope. Nada. Zilch. But he's hunting me like a dog. That's what he calls us- American dogs. I know there are other allied men captured here. I can hear them sometimes.

_I found a fox caught by dogs; his little heart beat so fast._ _I can't deal with this…_

I can stop and start your heart any time I want he says.

Great a God wannabe, just what I need right now.

Jeez that hurts, never had all the toenails out at once before… guess he didn't like my wisecracking. I can't help it. At least it stops them from asking questions when I scream or pass out for a while.

_I don't know what's good for me…_

Guess he's keeping the stopping the heart thing for another time…

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**The big sky**

I wish I could see out at the stars, the sky- I hate this small crappy ('scuse the pun) dark cell. It's driving me nuts, along with the itchy hair and the beard. Not to mention the terrible smell coming from the bucket in the corner. Can't help it when the food they give me kinda backs up on you - if you know what I mean. Goes in, comes out one way or another. It's one hell of a weight loss diet, tell ya that for nuthin'.

How long have I been here now…? Think O'Neill. Stay alert! Keep track, it's important.

Head Honcho has another idea he wants me to try. He seems sure this one will work, that I'll spill the beans on the -who, what, when and why. He's sure there were more than just me back at the dunes. He's right of course but I'm not going to tell him.

I'm sure you'd like to go outside wouldn't you he says, more an order than a question.

I'm trapped – if I say yes I'm sure it means I'm dead- a nice bullet to the back of the head. If I say no- I'm stuck in my dark cell again. Can't win here.

I choose not to answer, but maybe I did express something because now I'm outside- stuck in a small tin box. Baking. I'm not a damned recipe! Wish I could see out. See the stars or something. I try and position myself so I touch as little of the hot metal as I can manage, but it's a huge strain and pretty impossible. Times passes. Night comes and with it the cold. Now I curl my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around me desperate for body heat, shivering.

The next morning I'm brought back inside again. Get given a little water and some soup. More questions. Answers I won't give. Or ones that don't lead anywhere. I return to my dark cell. Home.

Nobody has bothered me since I came out of the tin box. I won myself some time to heal. He comes back for me the following day. Checking out the bad leads pissed him off big time. No more Mr Nice Guy. I struggle as they begin to lead me back outside to the tin box, but then they lead me to a flat area near the prisoner block.

Oh, look I got my wish to see the sky or the stars. Get staked out in the sun for a while, and….

_I'm looking at the big sky_.

And it burns. It's too fuckin hot. Clouds, wow…. play I spy..._that cloud looks like…_hears jet fly over. Got to be ours they don't have superiority over the airspace.

_What was the question?_

_------------------------------------------- _

**Mother stands for comfort**

My mind wanders off for a moment as I'm being slapped around, being interrogated again. Does this man actually have a mother and does she know what he does? Remember visiting my sick mom once, how she comforted me after a bad mission, I was a young Lt at the time and felt bad about what I'd done. I should have been comforting her.

_She knows I've been doing something wrong -but she won't say anything… Mother stands for comfort. Mother, hide the murderer._

You are mine now he taunts me.

_Make me do this, make me do that._

Sadist. He's nothing but a bully. Even his own men are scared of him. Maybe I can use that…maybe one of his men can be the weak link in the chain coz it sure as hell ain't gonna be me.

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**Cloudbusting**

I dream of rain- it's so hot…. and I remember a picnic with Sara and Charlie and how we flew a toy kite along the ridge, - _we're cloudbusting daddy_!. We had such fun that day, Charlie's little legs going like mad. Until he ran out of steam and got sad the kite wouldn't fly for him. I picked him up and held him high and ran with him giggling like mad. Hold on to the kite Charlie! I can hear it flapping above us now.

Then I realise it's not rain, it's the hose again, bringing me round from a beating. How did I get on the floor?

_Every time it rains, you're here in my head like the sun comin out. I just know that something good is gonna happen, I don't know when, but just sayin it could make it happen…I won't forget._

Just tell me! And all this goes away. You go home -all is forgotten he says.

NO.

How many were you? Where are your stockpiles, what are your long-term plans in our country?

I won't tell you.

We shall see about that he says

_I wake up crying…_

I'm gonna feed you wrong intel for as long as I can. Pretend to break down even…O'Neill's are stubborn and you're going to learn it the hard way.

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**And dream of sheep**

_Little light shining,… my face is all lit up_…

Look at me American scum! You will tell me what I need to know! he shouts at me.

I'm drugged I think. There's a light shining in my eye. One eye doesn't open any more. I can smell the foul cigarettes they have. What I wouldn't give for a proper smoke now…

_I wake up to the sound of engines._ Trucks, plane overhead. Theirs or ours I wonder? Wondering about the war how it's going. Did I go to sleep? Come on O'Neill, you can do better than this!

_Can't keep my eyes open._ Shit what junk has he given me? Have I said something relevant or just talkin' about stupid things? Think! Remember your training O'Neill!

_Wish I had my radio_. Iraqi radio is always on even at night. The crap music drives us mad like it's supposed to. Can't help but learn some words from the guards and the radio though. Lights on, no sleep. No let up. If we do drop off, they kick us awake or beat us. But this sleep feels different. Did I move, I don't know where I am or what I'm doing…

_let me be weak, let me sleep and dream of sheep …_ _they say they take me home…_._like poppies heavy with seed_…_they take me deeper and deeper…_

_-------------------------------------- _

**Under the ice**

I feel strange. I'm freezing. I'm tied to the chair again. Ice covers me, separating me from them. I feel odd, distant. Not me. It's this weird shit they've given me, or maybe it's because I'm soaking wet again. Don't mix your drinks _and _drive kids….

Maybe they should have fed me first. I can't remember when I last ate and kept it down or in me one way or another- watery soups and hard bread. Sometimes we get meat, just don't ask what it was. Bread is hard to eat when your teeth or jaw are busted, even tiny mouthfuls hurt. There are strange pulses and clicks in my head, my mouth opens but no words come out.

_Little lines, skating fast. Cold. It's me. Something moving under the ice. It's me…._

_----------------------------------------- _

**Waking the witch**

_Wake up!_

What? Look who's back to visit me. I see blood from a split lip where I managed to head butt him.

_Red red roses, pinks and posies_…

I paid for that though.

What did he say? Black bird? Black hawk? No I missed that.

Oh crap! The black box is back; they can plug me in and watch me light up like a regular friggin Christmas tree. Once more with feeling….

C_onfess to me!_

I ain't confessing to nothing.

A trial, he says.

_I question your innocence._

Yeah, and denial isn't just a river in Egypt, pal.

_What say you good people_?

_Guilty!_ _Guilty!_

_------------------------------- _

**Watching you without me**

_Can you hear me? I should have been home hours ago. There's a ghost in the house watching you without me. I'm not here. _

I'm floating, drifting through the air. I am home. I walk through the walls and see Sara and Charlie at home. This feels so good.

"Charles Jonathon O'Neill! Can you hear me? Are you listening to a word I say? I told you not to do that!" Sara seems upset and mad.

"Daddy lets me."

"Well he's not here. And what I say goes." Don't be mad at him he's only a baby!

_He should have been home but he's not here._

"When's daddy coming home? "

"I don't know Charlie. Soon,"

"You always say that!"

Suddenly I'm back here, flat on my back and a world full of pain, someone talking in the background…

"Fuck, this has gone bloody tits up 'n' all. Hey _can you hear me?"_

"Wha?"

"Yank! You're awake. Been bloody hours, man."

"Who? British?" I don't recognize the odd accent

"Aye. Just call us Geordie, man. Everybody else does."

"Why -with you?" I don't remember being moved in with someone else.

"Don't know, maybe they don't want you die. Maybe it's another game."

Drifting

"Come on drink this, don't die on me man."

"Tryin"

"Try harder cos they'll leave your body in here for a laugh. Tell ya I'd rather share my cell with a fuckin' Macam1 than your stinking db."

_Wake up man_, _Pay attention_…

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**Jig of life**

_Never say goodbye to that part of your life. Let me live_.

I've go to hang on for Sara and Charlie and…Frank ….either kill him or stay alive just so I can ignore him when I get home. I have to believe I will get home that I will stay alive….revenge can be sweet. Nobody ever said I had to play the nice guy.

_Never, never let me go._

This is my own private war, _it belongs to me_. I live with it everyday, but no one said I had to like it

A miracle after four months of hell. Told we were going home. Ha, heard that one before! Pulled from my cell. Bundled into a jeep with others. Rubber Duck- we got us a convoy. We speed through towns and desert. Blankness. People trying to do things to me. I push them away but I'm not strong enough. Drugged again. Bastards.

Red Cross, med evac- home or at least back in the USA somewhere. I don't really care anymore. Stop talking to me. Stop trying to get me to talk. It won't work for you any more than it worked for them can't you see that? I'm only going to tell you what you think you need and nothing more.

_Never say goodbye to that part of your life. Let me live_

No, I don't want to see Sara. She shouldn't have to see me like this. I don't want to see me like this. Does that make sense?

They bring Frank in to visit. But only the once. Once is enough. They thought I was too weak to do anything. Ha, what do they know? Surprised him- whacked him on the head with my water jug when he came close enough and then almost squeezed the life out of him. I woulda done it too if he hadn't found the call button.

Slowly despite myself I came back to life. I heal the body wounds and stick patches on the mental ones. Other experiences go into a box and I put big padlocks on it that won't come off. Or so I hope.

I finally go home to my wife and child. It's good and bad at the same time. Things are not normal for a while. I'm still in my shell, wrapped in my world of hurt.

Love breaks through. I am hunted by the hounds of love this time… Sara, Charlie- my everything. I can't run from them any longer. This time I'm a willing prisoner.

_I put this moment…. here._

_Over here. Can't you see where memories are kept right .Tripping on the water like a laughing girl. Time in her eyes spawning past life, run and the ocean and the woman unfurls ….Holding all the love that waits for you here…_

_Catch us now for I am your future, a kiss on the wind and we'll make the land._

_Come over here to where when lingers, waiting in this empty world…waiting for then when the light spray pools, for now does ride in on the curl of the wave and you will dance in the sunlit pools, we are of the going water and the dawn we are of water and of the holy land of water …. and all that's to come runs in with the first of the strand…_

_-------------------------------------- _

**Hello earth**

_With just one hand held up high I can blot you out of sight_….

Moon and star gazing flat on your back in the grass. Who cares that it's gone 0200? You don't. There is only you awake in the world at this precise moment. Or that's the way it feels. Hold a thumb up to the sky and blot out the moon. Quick! Take your hand away, I don't want the dark anymore, I remember and I hurt. I hunch up in pain. I gasp for air. I need the light. Always.

It's your space now, not what someone else has dictated is yours. It can't be taken away. Never again. I can't let it. This space is yours to do what you will with it. Out here in the open with the moon shining down it doesn't press on you now. Only when you let it out, to seep over and smother you. Just to check that you can put it back in its box where it belongs.

And your world exists inside your Grandpas cabin. Sara and Charlie. Your universe. Nothing can touch you now. The worst that can happen to you has happened. And you dealt with it, right? It's not like it's going to happen again is it? Is it?

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**The morning fog**

_Light begin to bleed. I'm falling like a stone, like a storm. Being born again into the sweet morning fog._

Feeling better.

_Saying I love you_ to Sara and Charlie thanking them for helping me. Going to say thanks to friends and family but still a stone in my heart for Frank. Some things are just going to take some time. Is it possible to feel this normal, this happy? Sometimes I feel like I'm falling and I wake up with my heart pounding and I'm home and Sara's next to me. And I don't believe it. I just know that black box is coming back for me when I least expect it.

END

**Notes**

NVG- night vision goggles  
RV- rendezvou  
Exfil - exfiltration as in getting out. As opposed to infiltration.  
Db- dead bod**y  
Geordie** - 'Anyone born on the banks of the Tyne' - so basically anyone born on Tyneside (UK). Also refers to local accent and dialect  
**Macam/Mackem** - anyone who comes from Sunderland, supports Sunderland football club or speaks with a Sunderland accent.  
There is intense rivalry between Newcastle and Sunderland football clubs. (UK)


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